Real health is the will to overcome every form of
by SageK
Summary: from a prompt of "....maybe a story with Chloe helping Jack out with his recovery from being infected."
1. Chapter 1

In the cool darkness of Georgetown Memorial Hospital's Intensive Care Unit, Chloe O'Brien shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position in the standard issue torture device disguised as a visitor's chair. As a former agent of the CTU, she had more than a passing familiarity with torture devices, despite being a tech. Over the years, she had learned a diverse knowledge base was a good thing.

Resigning herself to not finding a more agreeable position, she crossed her arms and regarded the sleeping form of her friend in the bed before her. Once again, Jack Bauer had saved countless lives at great personal cost. Sometimes she wondered how many times he could cheat death and her pragmatic mind always supplied her with answers she didn't like.

Despite the fact that he was no longer in the employ of the Federal Government, was in fact waiting for a congressional subcommittee to indict him on a number of charges, he had wound up working with the FBI during the latest terrorist attacks. And because he knew how to get shit done, Jack managed to track down and re-hijack a truck load of bio-weapons.

Unfortunately, the shipping container was damaged and one of the containers ruptured. Fearing the loss of life if any populated area was to be exposed to the bio toxin, he climbed into the truck, managed to seal the valve and was able to prevent much of the gas from escaping. By entering the truck, he exposed himself to a highly concentrated dose of the pathogen while in a small space, not something conducive to good health.

A team from the CDC was on the scene within 10 minutes and, though he underwent immediate decontamination procedures, Jack found himself infected with the weaponized prion variant.

He fought the symptoms for hours, ignoring his deteriorating health and accepting the idea that he was going to die even as he was determined to save others. She hated not being able to do anything to help him, besides continue to work. In a few, melancholy moments, she asked herself if maybe Jack was ready to die, to rest. It seemed that life had conspired to throw horror after horror at him without reprieve. Maybe he just wanted some peace.

Jack had told his daughter, Kim, that he didn't want her to undergo the experimental surgery that could result in a stem cell treatment for him, but once her fell into a coma, the decision was Kim's. The young woman immediately told the doctors to proceed with the surgeries.

Chloe never thought that she'd be thanking God for Kim Bauer. Especially considering she was still undecided in the does God exist or not debate…and since she wasn't all that fond of Kim.

That was how Chloe found herself staked out in Jack's hospital room, waiting for him to wake up. No way in hell was she leaving until he opened his eyes and proved to her that the prion variant hadn't fried too many of his brain cells.

Her husband and son hadn't returned to the city yet, but they had spoken on the phone. Crisis averted, he had asked if she'd care to join them in Vermont and had been out of sorts when she declined. She knew Morris respected Jack, might even consider him something of a friend, but he did not like Chloe's loyalty to him.

She had though Morris had worked through his little jealousy issues, but apparently he had not. It was one thing she refused to cede any ground on, so he'd just have to deal. He thought she was putting Jack above their family, which, okay, she could understand his point of view, but she considered it helping save the world for her family. And she had learned over the years that Jack was the best option for positive results.

Plus, he was Jack. A force of nature unto himself. 'Nuff said.

Except at the moment, unmoving and pale in a hospital bed, he didn't looks o intimidating. Even when wounded, Jack normally radiated charisma and strength, had this aura about him of confidence and capability.

She'd never really thought of Jack as small before. Intellectually, of course, she knew he wasn't the biggest guy around, but it had never struck home until she saw him huddled under the white blankets, all small and pale. It made something in her chest ache.

All sorts of wires and tubes snaked out from under the blankets, oxygen canulas and catheters and IV's and pulse monitors. He didn't move often, but occasionally a hand would flex, reaching out as if the grip something.

Pulling her chair closer, she took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before closing her eyes and drifting off herself.

* * *

He felt heavy and cold. Wherever he was smelled of antiseptic and bleach. There was an odd, beeping noise, breathing and the sound of someone moving around.

The heavy sensation, like a wet towel draped over his head, was one he knew, recognized as the haze of medication. A part of him wanted to sink back into the soft embrace of the drug, but years of training and instinct kicked in and he fought it. Drugs were bad, they made him weak, dulled his senses.

After far too long, he managed to blink his eyes open and light assaulted his senses. He thought they were shining a spot light in his eyes again, but slowly he realized it was the reflection of light off of a white ceiling.

This was new. He must have been in really rough shape for them to bring him to an infirmary. Usually, after intense interrogation or torture for fun sessions, they just dumped him back in his cell, maybe turned the hose on him.

"Mr. Bauer?"

A voice. Nearby. Jack shifted and was quite surprised to find his hands free. As someone leaned over him, Jack blinked, then mustered his strength and lashed out at the form hovering above him.

* * *

A loud crash, the clatter of metal on linoleum jerked Chloe out of the fitful sleep she had finally succumbed to. Flailing for a moment, she blinked, trying to focus on the room around her.

Normally, the fact that Jack was awake would have thrilled her, but the circumstances were less than ideal.

His eyes were wide, unfocused and wild, teeth bared in a terrifying snarl. One of his arms was raised, trembling with rage and fatigue, but somehow he managed to wrap his hand around the throat of his nurse. It was truly a testament to his years of training an muscle memory that he could force his exhausted body to take part in such an activity.

A large orderly came barreling into the room and tried to pry Jack's fingers from the nurse's neck, only to receive a kick to the kidney for his trouble. Suddenly, it all became horrifyingly clear to Chloe.

Jack was hurt, sick, confused, drugged and woke in a strange place with a stranger standing over him. That was a recipe for disaster, which was compounded in his addled state by the fact that his nurse for the day happened to be an Asian man.

Clearly, he was flashing back to the 20 months he had spent in a Chinese prison, to nearly two years of pain and torture. And, understandably, he was reacting quite strongly.

"Jack!" she yelped, scrambling towards the bed despite the orderlies groaned warning to stay back. "Jack, stop, please!"

He faltered slightly at her voice and Chloe pressed on, climbing onto his bed and forcing him to look at her, even as she wrapped her fingers around the wrist attached to the hand choking the nurse. "Jack, you're safe. It's Chloe, Jack. Trust me, please!"

His breathing was ragged and, with some effort, he focused on her face. "Chloe?" he gasped, hand going slack and releasing the nurse, who staggered back.

"You're in the hospital, Jack," Chloe told him gently, placing his hand down on his chest. Shakily, he clutched at her arms and she stroked his forehead soothingly. "In Virginia."

He was so focused on her that he didn't even notice the nurse injecting something into his IV, something that hit his system quickly. A cloud fell over his frantic blue eyes and he slipped back to sleep.

Chloe continued holding him, blinking back tears and finding herself almost making some sort of soothing noise, despite knowing he was asleep again. She hated seeing him like this but obviously he needed her. Turning to the nurse, she said, "Sorry. I should have realized he might react badly to…No offense, but he has some…history with…."

"Oh," the man said with a deep frown and rubbed his neck. "Well, we've taken care of white supremacist types before…."

"NO!" Chloe startled the poor man by shouting, but she couldn't let people think that of Jack because of her lack of communication skills. "No, he's not like that at all. It's…you've seen his scars?"

The nurse nodded warily and Chloe wet her lips, deciding what she could say without violating national security. "Jack has worked anti-terror for years now. Not long ago, he spent 20 months being tortured in a prison in…Asia." She knew she was treading on dangerous ground, so she kept the details to a minimum. "I think he had a flashback."

Face far more sympathetic, the nurse said, "Well, I'd probably be a little PTSD myself if I was in his situation."

She nodded. "Maybe someone should make a note in his chart, at least until he is more…aware."

The nurse, whose name tag read Michael Chang, RN, picked up said chart. "Well, I'm glad you were here," he told her. "He reacted very quickly to your voice. Usually it takes longer to catch someone's attention when they're so…confused."

It was nice to know Jack recognized her despite being in such a bad place. She smiled a little, wondering if maybe it was because she was so often the voice in his ear during times of danger and stress. Settling herself more comfortably by his side, Chloe hoped his waking up was a good sign and that the confusion would fade as his health improved.

* * *

Nurse Chang had take pity on Chloe and somehow wrangled her one of the padded, reclining chairs normally used by patients well enough to sit somewhere other than in bed. An extra pillow and blanket and she was almost comfortable.

She lay there, not yet ready to sleep. Listening to the beep an whir of various monitors, the squeak of nurses shoes out in the hall. The room was dark, lit only by a thin sliver of shining in through the slightly ajar door and the dim moonlight filtering in from the window.

Still, it was enough to see clearly once her eyes had adjusted and she simply gazed at Jack. He was sleeping deeply, sedated, but still mobile. His face was relaxed and peaceful, but still so very pale under his seemingly permanent tan. His arms had worked their way out from under the blankets and she looked at the limbs unabashedly.

Since his return from China, she'd only seen him wear long sleeved shirts and she had noted his new habit of tugging the hems down well past his wrists, almost to his knuckles when possible. Chloe knew Jack had some severe scarring on his arms, but she'd seen very little of it.

Until now.

The short sleeved hospital gown rode up on his biceps, revealing the scars and burns on his forearms, cuts and other old wounds on the upper arms. There were ragged, torn bands of healed flesh surrounding his biceps and Chloe felt a pain deep in her stomach.

She remembered that day several years ago, when, among other things, Secretary Heller had been kidnapped. She remembered Jack hovering by her work station, nice suit traded in for more serviceable Kevlar and dark blue t-shirt. The cotton of the T had pulled tight on his upper arms and she had noted rings of ink circling each bicep peeping out below the sleeves. A portion of her mind had noted one appeared to be barbed wire, while the other was a woven, Celtic band.

Later, after the day had ended and they had faked Jack's death, she allowed herself a moment of fancy to wish she'd gotten a better look at the inked designs.

She couldn't even begin to imagine how much it must have hurt to have a tattoo cut or burned off of your flesh, especially when they encircled a limb, as Jack's had.

Reaching out, she tucked his arms back under the blankets, as the last thing he needed was to catch a chill. A few minutes later, the hand nearest her was creeping out again, fingers flexing as though trying to find something.

Planting a foot against a wall, Chloe shoved her chair closer to his bed, bumping into the folded own bedrail, but that didn't seem to disturb him. Gently, she took his hand in her own and held it underneath the blankets.

She was pleased to find his skin warm, but not too hot. It was progress, as during the height of his illness, he had wavered between icy chills and burning fevers. Now though, his skin felt healthy against her own and she could feel his steady, slow pulse even as she heard the monitor beep.

Hand in hand, listening to Jack's soft breathing, Chloe drifted off into the most comfortable sleep she'd had in days.

* * *

To say Morris was perturbed to find Chloe still at the hospital when he returned to the city was an understatement. The only thing that would have made it worse would have been if she had not taken some time that morning to grab a quick shower in the staff locker room and traded her old top for a scrub shirt in a pretty coral color.

She met Morris and Prescott down in the cafeteria. Her son saw her first and slid off of his seat to run across the room. Chloe scooped him up in her arms and held him close, kissing his cheek as he wrapped his little arms around her neck and hung on tight.

"Hey," she said happily, leaning back to look the boy in the eye. "I am so glad to see you."

"Look," Prescott said, grinning as he held out a small package of maple sugar candies for her to see. "They're really yummy."

"I bet," Chloe said, sending a small smile to Morris, knowing the boy must have been wild on the car ride home, all hyped up on sugar.

Morris approached more slowly, not in the best of moods. "Are you ready to go home now?" he asked by way of greeting and his frown deepened when she hesitated.

"Not yet…." she began, but was interrupted by Prescott.

"Why not, Mommy? Are you sick?" He didn't know the situation, but he knew hospitals were where doctors worked and made a reasonable leap of logic.

"My friend is sick and I don't want him to be alone here," she said, trying to reduce the complex relationship between herself and Jack into terms a small child could understand. "He needs me to be here."

Despite Morris's sigh of frustration, Prescott nodded. "I sat with Heidi when she hurt her hand," he replied with pride in his young voice. "Until her mommy came."

Smiling at Prescott, she nodded. "Jack needs me to sit with him, just like that."

"Okay." Prescott was far more accepting of the situation than Morris, who was becoming visibly angrier, but wouldn't start an argument in front of the boy.

They sat down and had a meal of typical hospital fare, though Prescott was quite impressed by the frozen yogurt machine. When they finished eating, she kissed his cheeks again and had her hug stiffly returned by her husband.

As they left, she knew they were defiantly going to have a long talk when things settled down. She wasn't looking forward to it.

* * *

A few days later found Jack in a far better frame of mind. He was still weak and easily exhausted, but there didn't seem to be any permanent impairment from his bout with the prion variant. The doctor's seemed more than a little amazed by how well he was reacting to the stem cell treatment and he was producing life saving anti-bodies in massive quantities.

Chloe had taken the chance to run home, shower and change while Kim, her husband and daughter spent time visiting Jack. When she returned, with Prescott in tow (Morris was not happy with her), the smile on Jack's face as he looked at his granddaughter struck her as breathtaking.

While Steven went off in search of some decent coffee, Kim, Chloe and Jack chatted while Teri and Prescott played at the foot of his bed. It was all fairly pleasant, considering where they were and why they were there.

So it was a surprise when a typical, black suited, sunglassed, ear wigged Secret Service agent stepped into the room. He stared at them for a moment, before speaking into his sleeve. "Clear."

Without further ado, President Allison Taylor and her husband entered the room, the latter of whom was still looking a bit worse for the wear after the trials he had undergone. Chloe and Kim both rose in deference, each placing a hand on jack's shoulders to keep him from attempting to do the same.

He cast them each a look, then said, "Madame President?" He continued to squirm under their hands as though he though he'd be able to escape their grasp.

Frustrated, Chloe gave him a pinch and hissed, "Don't even try it."

President Taylor smiled at that and waved a hand. "I'd listen to her, Mr. Bauer You're looking a bit peaked, but considering the alternative…."

Settling down, he nodded and asked, "What can I do for you, Ma'am?"

She actually chuckled. "I think you've done plenty," she assured him. "I actually wanted to express my gratitude for your service during these horrible events."

"Just doing my job, Ma'am."

"It's not your job anymore, Dad," Kim said quietly.

He offered her a smile, then to the president said, "My daughter, Kim, Ma'am, and granddaughter Teri." Then he turned to Chloe. "And this is Chloe O'Brien and her son Prescott."

Taylor nodded in greeting to Kim, then fixed a more intent gaze on Chloe. "We all owe you a debt of gratitude as well, Ms. O'Brien," she said, stepping over and offering her hand. "I' glad we had the chance to meet."

Surprised, Chloe said, "Thank you, Ma'am."

"I'd like to offer my thanks as well," Henry Taylor spoke up, offering them each his good hand before greeting Kim as well.

Tired of being ignored, Prescott said, "Hi!" and Teri waved her chubby hands in the air.

Chloe and everyone else smiled, but she had to wonder what else was going on. The President of the United States did not drop by a hospital to check on someone's health. Not even Jack's.

Over the years of working with Jack, Chloe had learned to trust her gut and it was telling her something was up.

* * *

TBC……

Reviews Please!


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, just making a note that this story is AU after season 7. I had considered incorporating the new season canon into my story, but OMG I loathe both canon Hastings and any Dana, so I'm going off on my own tangent. How the new CTU should have come about

* * *

Chloe's prediction that President Taylor's visit was not a purely social visit proved prescient, as she had in fact asked something of both Jack and Chloe. Kim had been less than thrilled by this development, but, over the years, had obviously come to accept her father's less than commonplace occupation. So she had just sighed tolerantly and quipped, "Well, the country just got a bit safer again."

At the President's request, the subcommittee looking into the CTU's actions had been dismissed and the CTU itself re-commissioned. It would be a long process, finding appropriate locations and staff, but she hoped to get the first offices open within the next few months.

Appointing directors of Federal Agencies fell under the President's prevue, and she had an eye on Brian Hastings, an up and comer in the FBI, to head up the office in New York City, which was to be the Agency's main office. It was also where she requested Jack accept a position as head of Field Ops and Chloe Lead Analyst.

When the President of the United States offers you a job, you don't say no, so it hadn't even taken a moment to accept. A part of Chloe was looking forward to working with Jack in a normal, well, relatively normal, it was the CTU after all, office setting after all the times chaos had flung them together without the threat of death and destruction looming overhead daily.

Morris had been less excited about things and had given an ultimatum. She had to choose: CTU or him. When she had hesitated, he sighed and told her he knew what her choice was. What her choice always was.

The divorce had been quick and civil and he had no issue with relocating to New York, so as to be close to his son. Even though they couldn't make their marriage work, again, he was a good father and she knew he'd never abandon Prescott.

So, two months after Jack had been released to continue his out patient treatments at Mount Sinai Hospital, Chloe and Jack found themselves sitting in a large, cavernous newly renovated warehouse in Queens. The only furniture in the place was a long table and a few chairs, on which sat their lap tops and a huge stack of CV's. There were a few marked with red, political appointments they had to hire for their respective teams, but the majority of the choices were up to them.

"The whole place is wired, but I think we should run some extra channels in, to improve exchange speed," Chloe said as she dropped into a chair and watched as Jack smoothly settled into his own. She was pleased to see him hale and healthy again. "Hey, how did your meeting with Hastings go?"

Jack picked up a file and replied, "Well, he's no Bill, but he seems…like a bit of an ass, but someone's been telling stories about me. I'm pretty he's scared of me…and you. And us together, but he's been told to give us some autonomy."

"Makes sense." She peered at the file he was perusing, noting the serious, young Marine in the photo. "Are you going to offer Renee a job? Since she's left the Bureau and you two did work well together."

He frowned a little and said, "Maybe later, but I think she needs some time. I think she's still a bit shaken up over the things that happened…."

"And you need a steady right hand in the field," she concluded. "Any strong contenders?"

"There's a young guy, Ortiz, who seems like he has the stuff to become a good agent. He's FBI now, so he'd take some breaking in," Jack replied, then tapped the Marine's file. "Jo Reese is a CID agent, has done some UC work and seen some combat with the 1st Marine Special Operations Battalion, so she's an option. How about you?"

Chloe wrinkled her nose and poked the red marked files. "I don't even want them."

He grinned at her. "So go pick some malleable young minds from MIT."

"That…could work."

Jack leaned back in his chair slightly and said, "Yeah, it could."

With a small smile, Chloe looked around the empty office. Yep, New York could defiantly work for them.

And that's how the NY CTU should have started!


End file.
